


Wings Of Different Color

by Eloritia



Category: Death Note, Death Note: Another Note
Genre: AU, Angst, Another Note, Beyond Birthday - Freeform, Death Note - Freeform, L Lawliet - Freeform, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Translation, angel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloritia/pseuds/Eloritia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their wings are of different color, but in the flashing moments of immortal life they, time after time, find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings Of Different Color

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Крылья разного цвета](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/212845) by Depressive Maniac. 



> This is a translation obviously, I tried to keep the general feel of the work, but of course some things might have been lost as it always is with translations.  
> This is actually the first time I am doing something like this. Done purely because I wanted to share this with my friends*coughaftertalkingaboutittoomuchcough*  
> Please don't hurt me

Barely being able to move his feet, he stubbornly walked on the old, paved road. He had no strength to raise his wings that had become too heavy - darkened, grayish-black, not white like they were once, soaked in mud and disgusting slime-they couldn't help him anymore. One wing seemed to be broken, dragging behind him on the ground, collecting more dust and sand which stuck to the oozing abomination of a wing. But he still stubbornly tried to move the second wing. He was failing, trying to seek out the remains of his former light, the remains of belief that this world could still be saved. He was seeking out the strength in himself, but he didn't find it. And these useless attempts not only took away the few grains of energy he had left, but caused him wild pain. But, grinding his teeth, he still walked, step after step moving forward. He was coming home.

A huge, orange moon was lopsidedly smirking at him from a uneven hill. In the front he could see a castle, hidden in the hills, with its old, pointed towers looking like the teeth of a long dead dragon. A seemingly endless night, silence, and emptiness surrounded him, and everything smelled of death. Death soaked every centimeter of this earth-it glinted off this full moon, spread the bony arms of dried out trees, laughed with the dark caves of the mountains. He had lost again, adding to the countless failures. But now, when each step was taken with unbearable pain and had the potential to be the last before his body  would meet with the rocky ground, he didn't want to think about all the failures. His gaze was locked on a window in the gloomy castle, the only one glowing with a warm, flickering light. This glow lured him, promising to warm and calm him. This glow meant one important thing-he was still wanted

Wobbling, he stubbornly moved his feet, tripping on the uneven cobbles. He concentrated all of his consciousness on the warm, luring light, and tried not to think about anything else. He was so tired. So infinitely tired. So disappointed in everything-this world, people, himself. The temptation to give up and powerlessly fall on the rocks was too great. To accept defeat-and then everything would end. His exhausted body would melt before the morning came, dissolve in the rocks by sunrise. And his soul would rise up-up there in the endlessly blinding light, forever losing  its realization of being an independent being. In the end, though, he was still clinging to this strange existence. But why? Why was he playing these games, each time causing himself even greater pain? For what? What was he wishing to find? He didn’t want anymore. Didn’t want anything. But there-at the top of the hill, at the end of this long, rocky road, with grown over pavement, still was a gloomy castle. And in its window was still a glowing warmth. The wobbly light reminding him that no matter how he looked, he still had a home in this strange life. And that he still had someone who waited for him.

L didn't reach the steps by about hundred meters. His vision darkened, he wobbled, still trying to suppress the wave of weakness, still trying to stand and keep, if not walking, then at least crawling forward. But he fell in Beyond's arms. His dark double had, seemingly by instinct, walked out at that moment, and, with a flap of his strong black wings, easily covered the distance separating them. Just in time to catch the exhausted body. 

"Hey," B said slowly, his lips stretched in his signature smirk, eyes looking over the former detective. "So Kira did kill you. You lost."

"Yes," Lawliet breathed out, powerlessly hanging in his arms, "Yes, I lost. Again."

Beyond looked at the man, who was far too thin, with a deadly pale face, tangled raven hair, and sunken in dark eyes that had dull, lifeless pupils. He quickly glanced over L’s wings, with feathers stuck together, ruffled, and some broken. They were once snow white, but now were dirty and muddy. He took note of how powerlessly his left wing hung, and suppressed his desire to rejoice. After all, this time L was a loser also. Again. Otherwise he wouldn't be here.

"I'll help you," throwing L's arm over his shoulder, Beyond took on himself the weight of the other. "Let's go home. I’ve waited for you, L. Honestly, waited. Only I thought you would last longer. A lot longer. "

He helped him to walk to the porch, up the steep stairs, and, not stopping in the lower hall which was warmed up by the fireplace, made his way to the second floor. It had a big bathroom, normally dark and cold because of the old stone walls, which was lit with warm light from dozens of thick candles. Just like the hall below which they crossed without a stop. Each of them knew perfectly well that it only takes not lighting the light which gave the signal that he was still waiting. It takes only that for the other not to make the path on this hill, lit only by the moonlight. And then his body would melt before the morning came, consumed by the hungry mountains on which it would have fallen, and his soul would mix with the moonlight, filling the universal emptiness. And the curse would be lifted. And one who would be left? He would have freedom, get a right to save himself in the infinity of the undead world. But time after time and century after century, the one who came firm, stubbornly making his way alone up the hill, would hurry toward the light of the luring fire of the candle. And the other always came, using the remains of his energy to walk the rising hills. This was a curse, which they both knew how to break, but neither was ready to be the first to cross the line, to leave the candles unlit.

"I'll run you a bath," still holding the weak arm on his shoulder, Beyond carefully helped L lower himself on a grand wooden chair that stood against the wall.

L didn't respond. He only curled up, trapping his wrists between his knees, and silently closed his eyes. And froze like that, slightly rocking back and forth. His wounded wing limply hung on the floor, and Beyond cringed, noticing the way black slime dripped down into a puddle off of it and a few broken grey feathers beside it. While he looked, another feather fell out of the ruffled wing and fell right into the puddle. Tightening his lips, Beyond turned away and worked on filling the huge old bath on steel legs, filling it with hot water and bubbles.

"Get in," once the bath was full, he made L get up and undress from his waist down, leaving the crumpled jeans and briefs on the stone floor

Still holding up the thin body of his double, Beyond helped him carefully sit down in the tub, filled nearly to the brim with nice smelling bubbles.

"Mhm..hot, Bei," It seemed that life couldn't be shown in L's completely dead voice anymore. 

Beyond was silent. L moved a bit, moving his hands on the bottom of the bath, trying to figure out how critical was this high temperature. His shirt, soaked and sticking to his chest, didn't bother him. Nothing really bothered him at the moment. After a moment, quickly getting used to the hot water, he tried to get comfortable, pulling his knees to his chest.

"Just right. We need to warm you up," Responded B, after making sure he hadn’t gone overboard with the water’s temperature. "Raise your arms, I'll get the shirt off. It's just as dirty as your wings. "

"I am dirty, Bei. On the inside. " L responded quietly, ignoring the request. Hugging his knees, he put his chin on them. "I think I lost my wings. I can't wash them off anymore. I never have been so...defeated. I am crushed, Beyond. And I.. And I am really hurt. "

"Raise your arms." Not responding to his bitterness, Beyond apathetically repeated his demand. And L obeyed. Raising his arms, he let the once white shirt be pulled off him. He only moaned quietly in pain when Beyond tugged it off him. For Beyond, it was still a mystery how he and L could take off and put on clothes, practically not bothering the wings. Practically, because the wings felt the fabric sliding over them perfectly well, and responded with pain as feathers accidentally stuck or pricked it. But they weren't an obstacle, or some special preparation for clothes. It was always strange...strange but not too important.

Pulling the shirt off of L, Beyond saw the sharp shoulder blades pushing out on the thin, hunched over spine, and easily saw the line of vertebrates under L’s pale skin. And finally, in the warm light of the trembling candle flames, could take a closer look at the swollen, puffy, joint of his left wing, which had turned at an unusual angle. That same wing which was weakly hanging, the one which any touch to caused L unbearable pain. And from which, like leaves at fall, feathers kept falling out of-a few were already floating in the water. This unnaturally dislocated joint looked horrifying on the balding wing. Beyond reached out his hand to gently pet L on the neck. His palm slipped down on the shoulder, calmingly stroking the pushed out shoulder blade, and softly touched the injured wing. He tried not to cause unneeded pain as he felt the bone and obviously injured joint. L was silent, hugging his knees and pressing his forehead against them, obediently letting himself be looked over and felt. And only his sharp breathing, coming out in pants, informed Beyond of how much it hurt. He didn't want to cause that pain: here, in their real life, he himself never felt pain, leaving it in that drastically ever changing, temporary human world. But he had to choose. A broken bone meant only one thing-amputation. And feeling the injured joint, Beyond was calculating his power and ability to do it. And L's life would change with only one wing. He thought of how an ugly scar would look instead of a wing on L’s perfect back.

But it was just dislocated, praise the gods, not a broken bone. But it was not just a bruise, either. His double seemed to have really got it worse this time than usual. "Of course you are hurt. It's dislocated," Not wanting to show all that mix of contradicting emotions he had while checking, Beyond sat down on the edge of the bath and, taking water into his hands, splashed it on L's back, making him shudder with his whole body. "Seems like this really got you this time. Yes, L?"

"Yes, B...Maybe. " L didn't lift his face, still hidden in his knees. Beyond didn't like that. "Really bad."

Suppressing a strange feeling of jealousy, Beyond got up, flapping, for balance, his own completely healthy wings, covered in thick layers of black feathers. He felt a lot of pain, there, in these lives, but he never came so close to the edge, so close to risk being left without his wings, losing belief in himself. No one would be left in his soul and his heart, knowing perfectly well how deceptive humanity was. But L...L was different. He believed in people. And lost every time, risking purity of his faith and cleanliness of his wings. Always losing to humanity. Despite that, he never was injured like this before.

"I'll put it back in place," Beyond got up, and cracked his knuckles. "If you trust me."

"You know I trust you, Beyond." L answered quietly, still hiding in his knees. "But I still can't understand why you always bring me back to life, instead of using the opportunity to finish this curse."

"If not me then who?" Hummed Beyond, rolling up sleeves of his skin-tight black turtle neck. "Darkness loses all of its sense without light. Though I can’t deny that your pain brings me pleasure. And that just proves the fact that without you I'll loose my main happiness-seeing how you are losing time after time. That's why I can't let you trip. You can say that's my life purpose.

While talking, he leaned down, feeling L's wing with both hands, choosing how to grip it better. Trying not to pay attention to the falling feathers.

"You are also always losing, Bei," L said, lifting his head and hissing through his teeth because of another awkward motion. "Why do your defeats never affect you?"

"Because I lose to the light. And you lose to darkness." Beyond answered simply, leaning down to look into L's face, his lips stretching in a winning grin again as he let out a small giggle. "Feel the difference? Now try to relax. This will really hurt, L. And not because I want that, but because that is needed. And try not to get scared of my face. Actually, it’s better if you don't look at all."

L sighed heavily, and put his head down again, pressing his forehead against his knees. Beyond took the wing in both hands, and, gritting his teeth, jerked it with all his strength. For one moment, his face distorted with absolute hatred, eyes glowing a monstrous red, and the smile turned into a hungry snarl. Black wings spread, throwing uneven, torn shadows on the walls. And no matter how much L tried not to, he still couldn't hold himself back. Looking up, his helpless eyes widened, eyes that had become nearly black from the momentarily dilated pupils, and he cried out. L immediately went limp then, losing all of his remaining strength from the pain. But Beyond’s face had already took on his usual expression, and he bent down, putting both arms around the tortured opponent, pressing his head to L’s own chest.

"Shh.. There, there, protector of Justice." he whispered, hugging the shaking body. His voice was a strange mixture of mockery and crude gentleness, "it's going to get better now. " Waiting until L's body stopped shuddering in his arms and relaxed a bit, Beyond moved away. Pulling back and sitting on the edge again, he gently and thoroughly felt over the tortured wing, taking it as he moved it a bit to check that the joint had returned to its place."Well, at least you'll have both of your wings. " he hummed proudly. "I put it back." "Thank you," the voice was quiet, but L turned back to look at him. "What would I have done without you..."

"Have a glowing thing on your head with other saints like you," grumbled Beyond, "and you wouldn't go around in the human world. "

L decided to stay silent. Turning back around, he swirled up the water, cleaning the area in front of him of bubbles. And reached for a luffa. He was still hurting, and would be hurting for a long time, but it seemed that he was coming back around.

"Give it here." Beyond bent over, and grabbed the luffa from L’s hands. "Let's see, maybe I'll be able to wash off your wings again. "

"Why, Bei?" L turned to look at him. "Why are you doing all of this for me?"

"I like contrasts. If there are black wings, there should also be white wings." sitting on the edge of the tub, and swinging one leg, Beyond easily shrugged with his sharp shoulders. "And this abomination you turned them into... What is the purpose of me being near if mine will be black, and yours will be grey?"

For some time L inspected him closely, before turning away. He was still pale, but the hot water made its impact and gave his face some tone of life.

"I don't think that I can wash myself off this time, Beyond. "

"Let's see what we have." Beyond soaked the luffa and moved it over one of the wings, wetting the feathers. "Hatred, meanness, lies...Betrayal. Stabbed in the back. " Disgusting slime stuck to the once white wings, like oily sheets. Beyond once saw what birds turned into when they got stuck in an oil spill. The wings of the former genius detective looked about the same. Beyond patiently and gently washed them with warm, soapy water, and the slime unwillingly was washed off. L sat, not moving, still hugging his knees and looking with a dulled gaze right in front of him.

"Tell me. Tell me how you wasted another one of your lives." B asked without stopping his actions. "How did it happen that you allowed yourself to get this attached to someone?"

But L only shook his messy head in response without looking back, "This time I don't want to tell anything at all, Bei. Too bitter."

"Well of course you have to tell." Beyond soaked the luffa more and moved it over the back of L's neck, his naked shoulder, and way too sharp shoulder blades. And quietly purred, "you know what pleasure that brings me."

And L unwillingly relaxed because of these gentle touches. The slime on his wings lost its stickiness, coming off the feathers and running down his wings in dirty rivers.

"You know, Beyond...this time I really believed that I could have a friend." L whispered. "A real friend. You understand what I am talking about?"

"I do." Beyond rinsed the luffa, and worked on the wings again, trying to bring back their whiteness. "But people are liars, L. I always tell you that. They all carry darkness inside. Your tries to give them a real just world are fruitless. They are envious, vicious, greedy cowards. In the soul of every single one, these traits are hiding. If not a murder, then a liar and a traitor. And that they kill you every  time is proof. And you know this as well as I do. Otherwise I wouldn't have to wash your wings over and over again of this dirt. I hope the devil will actually be with your not-happened friend. Now, you better tell me about Kira. He killed me this time. To be honest, I am a bit angry at him. Even more than I am at you."

L bent forward in thought, drawing unknown patterns in the bubbles with the tip of his finger. "You know," he started, "Kira is my not-happened friend. Fine, I'll tell you, Beyond. " 


End file.
